Theft
by MelloShello
Summary: Roxas and Namine stuck at home. Repetetive theme. Parallel to Illness Unrestricted, but completely different circumstances. Probably another trip. Incest-Namixas, slight Roxion. Forgive my lunacy!


**A/N: **Okay, this is basically a parallel to Illness Unrestricted, and I started writing that almost a year ago, hope this is better, for sure. Basically, nothing in the last story ever happened, and I guess that's explained since this takes place before, but there'll certainly be M rated themes. It's just a different story.

**Rating: **M. Sexual scenes, adult themes. Veritable incestuous situations.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything, dudes.

X

Namine loosens the straps of her blouse. You can see the moist skin below her neck, and I'd rightfully christen her as a formidable adversary.

"So, who is she?"

Snap out of my daydream.

"What did you say?"

"Who's the girl?" she drawls, annoyed.

"Just a girl."

You jealous?

"It's never _just _a girl."

It's okay to be jealous.

"I mean, Roxas, you've never said it was just a girl."

Go ahead and be jealous.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I-" wake up again, "Yes. And maybe, yeah, she's more than just a girl."

She looks away, out the full-height window in the kitchen.

"Did you kiss her?"

I take a sip of Fresco.

"Yeah, it was hot." She glares disgustedly at me. "Then she blew me."

"That's not true." she pouts.

Of course it's not. She presses her face against the glass. It's hot.

She slides further down the window. Her thighs gleam against the hem of her shorts.

It's so hot.

"What's her name?" she mumbles, eyelashes downing the glass.

"Xion."

"That's a retarded name."

You're so damn jealous.

"You might like her," I suggest, grinning absently.

Wake up, Roxie. She's your sister.

"Nah."

She slides further, and her cheek's on the hardwood. Her back arched. Looks up at me with congruent eyes. Jesus, kill me.

She chews on a finger and her shins shift.

"Fierce lover and hater y'know." She almost whispers.

I clench my knees. And swallow.

Please.

"What category do I fall under," I mutter.

And she stands up quickly, and strides over the living room.

"Pool?" she shouts, and I hear her turn the television on.

…What? No!

"Answer me!" I yell back, but she's not going to.

"Kairi's stifled dead." She yells, "Because of the heat at her place."

"Good news, when's the funeral?"

God, get back in here, _for all that's holy._

"Roxas," she whines, "I love her."

No you don't.

"You're not gay!" I shout.

"Would you love me any less?" she shouts back, a smile in her voice.

Probably not.

"No!"

Of course I would.

She walks back into the kitchen.

"What's Axel doing these days?"

"I dunno." I lay back on the floor, "Taking cold baths with a bunch of liquor."

Namine sits at the counter. She leans forward again.

Her back stretches. Her legs dangle. Her eyes shut in composure.

I can just watch, that's good. Just watching.

It's June, and it's hot. Schools over. It's these breaks I tend to enjoy most, especially before senior year, all the garbage done with.

It's tranquil, with Namine.

Parents in Chile. Because they go where it's hotter in the summer, and colder in winter. Because they're subjectively stupid.

"Tell me about her." Namine says quietly.

She's tracing the marble's cleavage with a relaxed ring finger. Then her eyes drift to mine. And I fold my legs and swallow more spit.

"She's… very kind."

"Is that why you like her?"

"She's cute." I blurt out. And she scrutinizes.

"How cute?"

I don't want to say. Namine and Kairi have always looked creepily similar. But I've known Kairi long enough to brush it off. And Xion adds to this.

Same doll. Or maybe 'puppet' is a better word, since she's nothing to Namine.

"She's smart."

"_How _cute?" she repeats.

"Very, alright?"

And she turns away.

Jealous.

x

I wake up. I brush my teeth. I make bagels. I kick the neighborhood cat.

This is me. This is simplicity.

And when Namine leaves her fucking panties near my doorway so that they can blow into my room when the AC is on too high because it's probably 101 degrees outside and like 90 inside –

She's disrupting the simplicity.

On the third day of summer vacation, I run downstairs and yell,

"_Keep your panties in your own doorway!_"

And she yells,

"_They can walk or something, it's not my fault!_"

So I ball them up and throw them back into her room.

And they land on another pair of panties.

And I smell my hand.

And I gotta get out of here.

And it's so much easier to come and go in this house, when our parents are gone. I click on my trainers and pull my shirt as I traipse down the stairs, and Namine stares at me from the couch.

As cryptic as ever. The sort of thing ties a knot in me. Because it's weird.

"Where're you going," she says quietly.

"I'll be back."

And she flips over and continues with the TV. Step outside. It's so goddamn hot.

I walk a long way to get to the intersection between all our homes – Axel, Sora, Riku's, Kairi's and ours.

The thing about Xion was nearly a lie. I saw her only once. And it was here.

Across the street from me, she's there, the corner of Riku and Sora's road. She's just leaning against the signpost, looking cool. So I stuff my hands into my pockets and end up looking cool too, probably.

"Got outta bed?" she calls, flicking a cigarette.

"I – uh, yeah." my fingers fiddle at the stitching in my pockets.

She pulls out a lighter and a box. Flicks it open like some snazzy beatnik, lights it faster than I can articulate phonics.

"Last time you were shy," she says, dragging deep. Blows the smoke.

"I'm neutrally talkative." I shrug.

A car goes by. She smokes for a few more moments, then crosses the street, until she's standing in front of me. Drops the cigarette between my feet.

"Remember my name?" she asks.

"Yes."

"It's?"

"Xion."

"I like the way you say it." She says, slipping her hands into my pockets, holding mine. She stands on her tiptoes to see me nearly eye-to-eye.

"Who are you?" she asks.

What?

"I've met you before, right?" she whispers hoarsely.

She wears all black. She looks like a slinky assassin.

"You don't remember me?"

"Maybe," she pulls a sweaty hand out of my left pocket and separates my fingers. "What's your name?"

"Ro-"

"Is it Sora?"

…

"No."

"You look like someone I know."

"I know him too."

"He's a little-"

"I know." I assure.

It's been weeks, and I've never been this close to her. I can smell her shampoo and dull cigarette smoke. Wanna feel her lips.

"I'm not the kind of girl a kid like you'd should hang around." She smiles, retracting her hands, "Unsavory company."

"I'm pretty unsavory too."

"You've no idea." She says.

"No, I'm screwed, Xion."

She holds my chin between her thumb and forefinger chidingly.

"Got a girlfriend?" she asks.

"Don't think so."

"You want one?" she steps a leather-jeaned, high-heeled leg in between mine and her hip brushes against my crotch. I twitch, and step away.

"N-not really…"

And she looks like she's solved a rubix-cube. She grins hard, and cracks her knuckles, and walks back to her corner.

"Know where to find me?" she calls, innocently.

I almost consider following her. She looks no older than Namine, could she be that bad of an influence? But I take a step off the sidewalk, then sprint away.

x

I'm lying in the front yard, almost sleeping. My shirt off. I'm probably baking, don't care. There's less effort in staying warm these days, and I love it.

I lift my hand up to my face, and it doesn't smell like Namine anymore. It smells like Cigarettes and cheap shampoo. Falls back onto the grass.

I imagine Namine in a little grey bikini, drinking bottled water. Then I punch myself in the forehead. Losing it.

This keeps happening. All this lecherous shit, I don't remember when It started. Some obsessions can't be traced, I guess.

The water drips from her chin down her throat, and pools between her breasts…

…

Kill me now, for Gods sake.

…

Oh _shit!_

I open my eyes, and Namine's laid a cool hand on my stomach, and she looks at my chest, this glazed over look on her face.

I mean, things weren't always like this. We've fought like crazy. Pulled our hair out, while Mom and Dad sat back and watched, exhausted.

But it's slowly been getting weirder. Unbeknownst to us, we're getting careless with fluid actions – stuff that just happens.

"Ow…" I reach forward to touch my burning skin.

"It's sunburn." She says quietly.

My eyelids kinda hurt.

"Get inside," she says. She gets a determined look on her face and tries to gather me up.

When I try to sit up, it _burns_. I'm seething through my teeth, and she places a hand on my back.

When I'm lying in bed and she's applying a washcloth drenched in ice and aloe, she says,

"How would you feel if I dated a mysterious, indefinite boy?"

"You're not allowed to date boys." I smile, but it hurts.

"I already have."

What?

"I just don't like telling you that kind of stuff."

"Why not…?"

"Because it sucks," she chuckles spitefully.

The water drips into the hem of my boxers, and I'm trying hard to shiver.

"You smell like a hooker." She says.

"I _do not_," I laugh.

She takes the cloth, and holds it over my arm. She wrings it. It's relief. But she lies a hand on my hot chest, and that's not relief, it's a dull urging.

I _want _her.

She leans over and brushes my hair out of my eyes.

_God_…

"How well," she murmurs, "Do you know her,"

I breathe in, trying to flex my arm without it hurting too badly, but it does.

"Not very."

She looks over, towards the window.

"It's a long summer, Roxas. Just remember how many things you could waste your time on."

I know.

"Not that girl."

Because you're jealous.

"I don't know her."

You want to be like her.

"And that's weird."

To know how she ticks.

"Go to sleep."

And get me _off_.

"I didn't know it was so late." I sigh, looking towards the darkening window. Then the clock. It's only nine, but my sunburn makes me sore and tired.

But you don't have to worry about that, Namine. It's too late.

"Seeya later," and she gets up and leaves.

Because you've already got it.


End file.
